


Ten Years and A Proposal

by evelinaonline



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, POV John Watson, POV Third Person, Sherlock Being an Idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelinaonline/pseuds/evelinaonline
Summary: “Sorry,” John says, clearing his throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”“I said we should get married. Do keep up, John.”ORIn which Sherlock wakes John up at 3AM to tell him they should get married.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 24
Kudos: 209





	Ten Years and A Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY 10TH ANNIVERSARY BBC SHERLOCK!
> 
> To honor the date, this takes place 10 years after A Study In Pink. Whether it follows canon or stands on its own little universe is entirely up to the reader's interpertation. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (beta'd by [totallyevan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyevan/pseuds/totallyevan), somewhat britpicked by me. In other words: two greeks trying to write in british, so take this as you may lol)

"John."

It takes a minute for the gears in John's brain to start working and for him to force his eyes open, but it's all worth it, because when he does, Sherlock's half-asleep face is staring back at him.

To say last night was exhausting would be an understatement. They had somehow survived yet another one of Mycroft's cases, and collapsed right into bed the moment they entered their flat in Baker Street. John was so tired he doesn't even remember changing into his pyjamas. He's covered with Sherlock's bedsheets from head to toe, only that they aren't really Sherlock's anymore. Sometimes, John still can't believe they've been together and sharing a bed for over a year now.

Next to him, Sherlock is also lying on his side, his arm folded underneath his pillow. He looks like he has just woken up—barely open eyes, messy curls falling on his forehead, a sleepy expression on his face—but it's probably only been a few minutes, considering he took the time to untangle himself from John's body. John might not remember much from last night, but no amount of tiredness will ever be enough to prevent him from recalling Sherlock spreading all over him like an octopus. And even if he had somehow forgotten, it's the same every night. Sherlock bloody Holmes and his need to cuddle; it's as perfect as it sounds, and John can't help the smile that tugs at his lips. The scene is so relaxing that, as John tries to snuggle into Sherlock's personal space again, his eyelids start to feel heavy and slowly fall to cover his eyes—

"John," Sherlock repeats, snapping John's eyes open.

"Hey," John mumbles, yawning as he does. "'time is it?"

"Observe and deduce."

John figures he's expecting him to look around and guess from the lack of light in the room, so he doesn't ask again. Instead, he reaches out with his hand to brush a curl off Sherlock's forehead. Sometimes, John can't help but think of how his brilliant brain is resting just a few inches away from his hand, and he finds himself falling in love all over again. He wishes this could be their every night, away from the thrill of the chase and right into the thrill of simply staring at each other. He can't imagine having it any other way.

Sherlock feels like home. He's the mere definition of ' _can't live with him, can't live without him,'_ of course he is, but John doesn't mind. Sherlock is chaos, flipping his life upside down with a snap of his fingers, but he's also a warm cup of tea after a long day. He's fireworks, vivid and loud, but also a night sky full of stars that John could spend hours upon hours gazing at. Sherlock is an impossible phenomenon with a solution, an orchestra with no maestro, he's—

"We should get married."

—bloody insane.

John doesn't feel the mattress beneath his body anymore, and he blinks intensely to ensure this is real, and—

Of course it is. Of course it's bloody real.

"Sorry," he says, clearing his throat. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Sherlock somehow makes a sound between a groan and a pleasant hum. "I said we should get married. Do keep up, John."

John doesn't know whether he should voice his confusion or laugh; he does both, because Sherlock did _not_ just wake him up to announce their engagement. John is perfectly healthy and therefore can take a lot of things, but he highly doubts good health is going to prevent the doctor from having a heart attack any moment now.

"Oh, I can practically hear you bickering in your head," Sherlock says, rolling his eyes. "If this is about the lack of a ring, then—"

"You woke me up," John interrupts, surprising himself with how awake he sounds. Situations like this tend to shake you awake, he supposes. "You woke me up at…"

"Three in the morning—"

" _Three_ in the bloody morning," John says, not bothering to show his appreciation for Sherlock's input, "to tell me that we should get married."

"Yes."

John blinks. There has to be something he missed.

"You want to get married," John says.

"Obviously," Sherlock responds as if it's the most natural thing. "I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. It wouldn't hurt you to use your brain for a change, John—"

"Why?"

It's Sherlock's turn to look dumbfounded now. "Why should you use your brain?"

"Why," John says, propping himself up on one arm, "do you want to marry me?"

Sherlock opens his mouth but John glares at him— _don't you dare say it's_ obvious _, you git_ —and so the detective closes it again, seemingly giving it a bit more thought. John finds himself wondering what exactly is going on in that huge brain of his, and maybe, if he gathers up enough courage, he'll start to wonder what goes on in his heart too.

"There would be… benefits," Sherlock begins, carefully and steadily. "Reduced taxes, easy hospital access—"

"You want us to get married because of taxes?" John can't help but giggle.

"Don't be absurd, John." It's as if the joke has entirely flown over his head, because he sounds almost as offended as when Anderson opens his mouth at a crime scene. "There are, of course, other reasons. Research shows," he says, "that on average, couples tend to get married after four-point-nine years of dating. Admittedly, our one-year anniversary was only a month ago, but we've known each other a lot longer than that." For a second, it sounds like Sherlock is finished, but then he opens his mouth again. "And did you know that couples averagely live together for almost three and a half years before tying the knot? Seems like an insignificant number compared to us, wouldn't you think?"

 _Ten years_ , John reminds himself. He's been living with Sherlock for ten years, and he's spent every single day since he moved in falling more and more in love with the git. "It does, doesn't it?"

John lets himself think for a few moments. What Sherlock is saying makes perfect sense, but he can't shake the feeling that there's something else he's been meaning to say, something he's hiding behind facts and research. John knows that it may just be the sleepiness talking, but…

"Is that all?" he asks. There's got to be more to this. Not even Sherlock would wake John up to inform him of useless Google facts.

Sherlock thinks for a moment. "No," he says. He thinks again. His eyes are pinned on something behind John as he does so. Very focused, then. "I also happen to be excellent at organizing weddings."

John almost laughs. "And?"

"And because it would make Mummy and Father happy."

"And?"

"And Mrs Hudson, and Gavin, and Molly," Sherlock says. John raises an eyebrow. "Fine, my stupid brother too! Although I fail to understand how that counts as a _reason_ for us to—"

"And?"

They spend a few moments in silence. John can hear the gears in Sherlock's brain ticking, picking up speed, degrading, being made, doing everything all over again… Sherlock is no longer staring at the wall behind John, but rather at him. It's been long enough for John's eyes to adjust to the darkness, but he can't really see what color Sherlock's eyes are now, just their shine. He's beautiful like this. Stressing over things that aren't cases, partaking in a domestic life that's just _so_ like him, even if he won't admit it. And it's all for John's eyes. Just for him.

"And because I love you." Sherlock breaks the silence. The words travel from John's ears to his heart and stay there, warming his entire body up. "I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

John finds himself stroking Sherlock's hair again, not bothering to hide his grin anymore. "One day, I'll be too old to chase after criminals."

"So will I," Sherlock says. "For some reason, you worry that I'll grow bored of you once you can't assist me anymore, as if you don't act like an old man already, scolding me about keeping the kitchen tidy—"

"Oh, shut up," John says, and Sherlock smiles at him.

His hand finds John's, then, pulling it away from his face and near the detective's heart. "I want to grow old with you," Sherlock says, and John feels his heart flutter. "Obviously, I wish to resume my work here in London, as of now. But one day…" His grip on John's hand tightens a little. "One day, I wish to retire in Sussex, to occupy myself with beekeeping."

"Beekeeping?" John says through a smile, raising an eyebrow. "You? And bees?"

"Of course," Sherlock says, the most deadpan expression on his face. "Bees are brilliant creatures, John, and hardworking, much like yourself." John squeezes Sherlock's hand a little bit too hard instead of shoving him, and it's only then that Sherlock smiles again. "I want to move to Sussex, maintain bee colonies, experiment with honey making, and I want you to be my assistant."

"Just your assistant?" John says.

"Ideally, my husband," Sherlock corrects. The way the word _husband_ rolls of his tongue sounds so extraordinary, yet so natural, and John wants to hear it over and over again. "Though you have yet to respond to my proposal."

John bites his lip in order to keep himself from smiling. "Sorry, Mr Holmes, I don't think I heard you ask a question."

Sherlock huffs, and John almost bursts out laughing right here and now. "Oh, _please_. You hardly need me to deduce something _that_ obvious."

"Nope, sorry," John says. "I'd say your consulting skills are definitely needed in this situation."

Sherlock groans and lets their hands fall on the pillow, and for a split second, John is almost certain he's going to fall into a sulk. He's wrong, thankfully, because Sherlock squeezes John's hand once more and looks him in the eye as if he's the last person on earth.

"Fine," Sherlock says, and clears his throat. "John _Hamish_ Watson—" Sherlock speaks delicately and elegantly, and John can't help but roll his eyes at the use of his middle name. That sod. That utter, utter sod, "—of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, former Captain and army doctor, _brilliant_ blogger and my one and only live-in PA, and oh, I'd be truly lost without you, as you keep so annoyingly reminding me, for some reason—"

"Sherlock."

"Yes?"

"Getting a bit off-topic?"

"Right," Sherlock says, and John snickers. He almost feels bad for making Sherlock say this, seeing as he's stalling so much, but he's enjoying this way too much. If John Watson is getting married, he's getting the full package, proposal included.

Sherlock clears his throat again, and squeezes John's hand one last time.

"John, will you marry me?"

Time stops.

John can feel everything. He can feel the mattress, he can feel their body heat trapped underneath their bed covers. He can feel his head spinning, his heart pounding. He can feel _Sherlock_ , and his long fingers wrapping around John's, and he can feel every single thing—

He can't believe there are tears about to roll down his eyes, but he doesn't bother holding them back.

"Of course I'll marry you," he says, and Sherlock's shoulders immediately drop as he sighs in relief—so much tension that John didn't notice before. Sherlock was worried, he realises. Terrified.

John leans in to press his lips against Sherlock's, and they share a lingering kiss, soft and pure and real. When they pull away, they're both smiling.

"You said yes," Sherlock says, and John can't help but kiss him again.

"Of course I said yes." They both drop to Sherlock's pillow, staring at each other. "The answer's always been yes." Sherlock smiles like a kid that just got exactly what it wanted and kisses him again, and John wonders over and over again what he did to deserve him.

When they pull away, it's so that Sherlock can bury his face in the crook of John's neck, and for John's cheek to rest on Sherlock's hair. They're pressed together from head to toe, covered by the sheets in their own comfortable cocoon that John never wants to get out of.

"I love you so much," John whispers into Sherlock's curls, and Sherlock hums happily. "I love you, and I can't wait to marry you."

"I love you," Sherlock mumbles back, planting a sloppy kiss on John's neck. His voice sounds tired now—of course it does, he always falls asleep the moment John wraps his arms around him.

"And Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock hums. God, how much John loves him.

"You better get me a bloody ring."

Sherlock shoves at him lazily and nuzzles his neck without another word. John chuckles before yawning, pressing another sleepy kiss to Sherlock's forehead.

 _Here's to another decade,_ he thinks, and lets the silence do the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's on Johnlock.
> 
> Can't believe it's been 10 years since BBC Sherlock came out. I have only been in the fandom for a few months, but I remember seeing posts about it for years and years. To think that it's existed for so long is fascinating. (You'd think that after 10 years Johnlock would be canon but nooooo.)
> 
> If you enjoyed this, you can follow me on [tumblr (evelinaonline)](https://evelinaonline.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Hope everyone enjoys the anniversary!


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